


Just Desserts

by smoulderandbraids



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Ice Cream, M/M, Summer, Tenderness, domestic filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25228609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoulderandbraids/pseuds/smoulderandbraids
Summary: Five times David and Patrick got ice cream one summer and were stupidly in love, brought to you by the current southern Ontario heatwave.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 20
Kudos: 141





	Just Desserts

I **\- Strawberry**

David is melting. He is going to melt, undignified and sweaty in the unbearable heat and direct sun of the Schitt’s Creek baseball theatre viewing area. David makes a point of attending at least one of Patrick’s baseball games a month because he is a dutiful and supportive husband. He’s already wearing shorts and short sleeves in concession to the weather. Stevie teased him when he flicked open a tasteful hand fan, but it’s actually very effective and didn’t she just change her tune when he very graciously let her borrow it when his arm got tired. 

“Do you think Patrick has enough sunscreen on?” He asks Stevie, because he needs to think about something to distract himself from his impending heat death. 

“I mean, he has a hat on so he’s probably fine.” Stevie says. She’s wearing a tank top in deference to the heat, her flannel abandoned on the bench beside her. 

David isn’t convinced, but his phone buzzes before he can educate Stevie on the realities of UV radiation. His dad wants to know the score. Despite the fact that he probably has much better things to do these days, he’s remained in David’s opinion, too interested in the local baseball team drama. He texts back, _Patrick looks happy so I guess we’re winning_ , and confiscates his fan back from Stevie. 

Patrick is waiting for his turn at bat and David can’t help but watch the way he tips his head back and squirts water into his mouth like a jock from a very off-brand squeeze bottle. It’s kind of hot. David shakes his head. Clearly the heat is getting to him. 

Patrick is doing his little getting ready ritual in the staging area near home plate, tapping the bat against the ground and stretching. David is rudely jolted from his perusal of Patrick’s routine when Jocelyn screams. 

It’s difficult to see what happens next, but apparently Roland has fallen to the grass with a few of his Bob’s Garage teammates around him. 

“He’s fine!” Ronnie yells to the baseball director, who is walking towards them. “Just a little overheated.”

“Nope,” the director says, making some hand gesture. “Game’s off everybody. Go cool down.” 

“Thank God,” Stevie says, already on her feet. She taps David’s arm in lieu of a goodbye hug and disappears towards the parking lot. 

“Hi.” Patrick says, jogging up to David, when he’s finished high fiving his teammates and packing up his equipment. “Looks like we’re going home early because Roland doesn't believe in drinking water.” 

“How can you not believe in—no, you know what, I’m not going to ask.” David says, with a shake of his head to clear that line of inquiry from his brain. 

Patrick’s all smiley the way he always is after the baseball, especially when his team wins which seemingly they did. Patrick is too flushed and disgustingly sweaty. David can feel the heat rolling off him when he stands this close to him, but David is a sucker for that smile so he lets Patrick lean in closer to kiss him hello. 

“Thanks for coming,” Patrick says, that stupid smile still playing on his mouth. “I know it’s hot.” 

“It is,” David says, putting a little distance between them. “Which is why we should go home immediately and you can kiss me again after a shower.” 

“Or we could swing by the cafe and get ice cream so we don’t melt in the car on the way home?” 

“I could be convinced.” David says, smiling. “That’ll give your sweat a chance to evaporate so you don’t ruin the car upholstery.” 

“Because you’re not sweaty at all.” Patrick says, catching David’s hand and turning them towards the cafe. 

“I would never.” David says, mock outrage. 

~

Twyla makes two flavours of ice cream a week in the summer and sells them by the scoop in actual store bought enormous waffle cones. One flavour is usually a classic and the other is usually...experimental. This week the choices are strawberry and orange bubblegum. They both pick strawberry. 

It’s decidedly better than expected, pale pink and creamy with actual little slivers of frozen strawberries brimming with flavour. It’s without a doubt the best thing David’s ever had from the cafe. 

They eat as they walk back from the cafe to where the car is parked by the baseball field. It’s a bit of a race to finish the cones before all the ice cream melts. 

“Hey,” David says when Patrick pulls the keys from his pocket. “Give me those. I’ll drive and you can rest your muscles and drink another eight to sixteen ounces of water.” 

“Sure,” Patrick says, passing David the keys and moving around to the passenger side. “Thanks.” 

Patrick turns the car AC on blast as soon as they’re settled. It’s exquisite and makes the hair on the back of David’s neck stand up, makes him shiver a little at the sudden contrast. 

They’re on the main road out of town towards home when Patrick reaches out and rests a warm hand on David’s knee. He keeps it there until they’re pulling into the driveway. 

  
  


**II - Mint Chip**

For David’s thirty-something mumbled under his breath birthday, Patrick suggests they book a long weekend at a lake house. It’s the July 1st long weekend anyways and Jocelyn readily agrees to watch the store. It will be nice to get away for a bit and it’s the perfect opportunity for Patrick to spoil his husband a little. David isn’t always the biggest fan of his birthday and Patrick can’t help trying to make it special for him.

“I hope it’s nice,” David says in the car as they’re heading up the driveway.

“Honey, I think based on the seventeen questions we asked the owner about the flooring and the mattresses and the lake’s water quality and every other aspect of the property, I think it’s going to be nice. And if for some impossible reason you don’t like it and all the photos on a listing were a lie, I can keep you very distracted.” 

“Your birthday plans,” David says, knowingly. 

“I told you, the Airbnb is the plan, I don’t have secret birthday plans. I know how you feel about surprises.”

“You understand if I disagree,” David says. “Based on your past performances.”

“As long as you’re not disappointed when _nothing happens_.” Patrick says cheerfully, rounding the corner so the lake house comes into view. 

It looks exactly like the pictures. Patrick glances away from the road for a moment to look at David’s face. He looks carefree more than anything, calm in a way he never really is in the hustle and bustle of their general day to day, outside of evenings and early mornings. 

Patrick parks the car and turns to look at David properly. “Do we need to turn around?” he asks, very serious just for the way it makes David smile and lean over to kiss him. 

“It looks nice,” David says.

“I bet,” Patrick says. “C’mon, let’s go unpack and then we can go try out the lake.”

“Or we could try out the bed.”

“If we start there then I’m never going to get you in the lake and you know how much I like you in swim trunks. Please?”

“I guess.” David says. “I could use some time sunbathing.” 

“You’ll get it.” Patrick promises. “C’mon.”

The lake is even better than it was in the photos, clear and calm. It’s beautiful, cool and refreshing, but Patrick will appreciate it properly later. David currently has his complete attention. He looks sinfully good in his black swim trunks. They’re shorter than any shorts David would ever wear in public and dripping wet out of the lake they cling to him in all the right ways. 

Patrick climbs out too and joins David on the fluffy towel on the dock. David’s on his back, water shining on his wet, undone hair and the dark sweep of his eyelashes on his cheeks. The freckles on his shoulders that Patrick loves all year round have come out darker in the summer sun and Patrick wants to kiss every one of them. He lies down next to David and starts at the point of David’s shoulder, working his way in until he can kiss David on the mouth. David kisses him back, sweet and lazy and perfect. There’s no intent in it, but he keeps Patrick close with a hand on his lower back and it’s so easy for Patrick to relax into his touch and the warmth of the sun. 

They stay like that, trading kisses until they’re nearly dry and Patrick has made plenty of progress with David’s freckles. 

“Okay,” David says, taking back his hand from where it’s migrated to Patrick’s ribs. “I’m hungry. Let’s go up?” 

“Yeah,” Patrick says. “I packed that pasta you like. And ice cream.”

“Oh, ice cream first,” David says. “We can eat dinner late?”

“It’s your birthday.” Patrick says, smiling and pulling David up to his feet. 

They make their way up to the house and its equally stunning kitchen. Patrick pulls the ice cream out of the freezer and finds bowls and spoons. 

“Mint chip?” David asks, sitting on the counter and accepting his bowl. “Mmmm.” He takes a bite, drawing the spoon out of his mouth thoughtfully.

“See, I knew you had plans. You bought me secret birthday ice cream.”

“Sure, sweetheart.” Patrick says, fond as anything. “Secret birthday ice cream because you never bothered to look in the cooler. That’s your big surprise, you can relax now.”

“I plan on it.” David says, leaning down to cup Patrick’s cheek and draw him into a minty sweet kiss. 

  
  


**III -** **Chocolate**

It’s the kind of sweltering summer night where the idea of having anything but salad for dinner is unbearable, as is the idea of wearing anything but the bare minimum of clothing. 

It’s too hot for sex, objectively, but David was fresh out of a rare evening shower, blissfully cool from the tepid water and his still damp hair and maybe it was provocative of him to just put on a silky, maybe too short [robe](https://kimandono.com/products/kimono-robe-silk-handpainted-cherry-blossom-short?variant=38761887235#Image24383851331%20make%20hyperlink) and nothing else. But really, what else is one supposed to wear for summer lounging around reading before bed? 

“Well look at you,” Patrick says, coming into the bedroom and eyeing David up like they haven’t been married almost a year and he hasn’t seen this particular robe many times over. 

David would argue that Patrick has no business looking so good in an old, worn thin T-shirt that’s relegated to yard work and a disastrous pair of shorts that David cannot bring himself to describe or acknowledge. 

Patrick comes to the edge of the bed, sits next to David’s shins where he’s curled up on his side with his book. 

“You smell like the linden tree,” David tells him, looking up from his book to track the way Patrick fingers the cool silk at the hem of David’s robe where it’s resting just above his knee. 

“I was watering it,” Patrick says, eyes on David’s legs and very much not his face. “And the other plants. They get dehydrated so quick in the sun.” 

“Mmmm, thank you,” David says, sitting up to lean in for a kiss, because it’s sweet that Patrick knows how much David loves the linden tree while also having no inclination to remember to water it. 

Patrick’s hand is warm where it’s still resting on David’s thigh. It should be bothersome in the heat, but it’s wonderful, a grounding counterpoint to the light, flirty way Patrick kisses him back. 

“Hey, I wasn't finished,” Patrick says, when David pulls away after a moment. 

“You should shower, I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

“I did after practice this afternoon. And I’m going to need another after.”

“After what?”

Patrick leans in and presses a kiss to the very open neckline of David’s robe. 

“Oh,” David says, as Patrick moves lower, with just enough teeth over David’s collarbone to make David abandon his book in favour of placing his hands on Patrick’s back. 

“Okay, yes.” David says, “You can shower after.” 

“Perfect,” Patrick says, and moves to press David back into the bed.

They make out for a while like that, hands and legs and kisses everywhere until Patrick’s bare and David’s robe is only on in the most technical sense of the word, ridden up around his hips where he’s straddling Patrick and pulled open over his chest and stomach. 

“Don’t,” Patrick says, reaching up to catch David’s hands on the belt of the robe. “Just the belt. Leave the rest on.”

“Oh?” David says, fingers playing on the tie, slipping the knot apart slowly. 

“I want to fuck you with it on,” Patrick says, his hands moving to David’s hips, high up under the hem of the robe. “You look so pretty like this.” 

“That’s very—That can be arranged,” David says, and lets the belt fall open. Patrick’s hands tighten on his hips, which is useful stability as David reaches over to his nightstand to get the lube. He passes it to Patrick and leans down to kiss him, jumps when he feels Patrick’s slick hand on his cock. 

“Fuck,” David says, sitting up and settling his hands on Patrick’s chest for support, leaning in to the touch. 

“Getting there, sweetheart,” Patrick says, and palms David’s ass, urging him to tip forwards a little so Patrick can stroke behind his balls and slip a finger inside him. 

David moans appreciatively, runs his hands down Patrick’s chest. David used to think no one would ever be as good at fingering him open as he is himself, but Patrick has proved to be dedicated to the task. He gives David another and presses a little deeper inside him, grins when he finds David’s prostate, and David cries out, his thighs tightening around Patrick’s hips. 

“Fuck, Patrick,” David says, bringing one hand to stroke his own cock, keeping the other on Patrick’s chest for balance. He can’t help rocking his hips against the press of Patrick’s fingers, chasing the pleasure he knows is waiting for him there. “If you want to fuck me like this you better do it before my thighs give out.”

“I think you underestimate yourself,” Patrick says, rubbing slow circles with his clean hand where David’s hip meets his thigh under the silk of the robe. He slips a third finger into David which is frankly unnecessary because David’s so ready, but it feels wonderful and David’s eyes flicker shut for a moment as his body adjusts to the stretch. He has to slow his hand on his dick, the first edges of an orgasm creeping up on him too suddenly.

“Look at you,” Patrick says, his eyes finally leaving David’s face and flicking down to David’s hand on his cock, shiny with precome and dripping a wet patch onto Patrick’s belly. “Dressed up all gorgeous and getting so messy for me.”

“Please,” David says. 

Patrick’s face softens the way it always does when David begs, like there’s no question that he’ll move heaven and earth if needed to give David what he wants. 

“Please stop telling you how gorgeous you are and fuck you already?” Patrick says. His tone is teasing but David knows he means it, knows he will. 

“You can keep the telling me I’m gorgeous part,” David says, tracing his thumb over one of Patrick’s nipples, because he’s not above some teasing himself. 

“Thank you for clearing that up,” Patrick says, reaching for the lube again and slicking himself up, guiding David down onto him with a hand at his hip.

David’s thighs do tremble a bit when he’s all the way seated, stretched open on Patrick’s cock in the best way, but it’s more from pleasure than exhaustion. It’s worth the effort to ride Patrick properly, meeting him thrust for thrust and watching Patrick slowly lose his composure, watching the pink flush that creeps down his neck and the way his fingers dig into David’s ass when David moans, lifting him up and holding him close. 

Patrick gets like this sometimes, determined and demanding and almost competitive, though he never asks for more than David is willing and ready to give. It gets David hot every time, makes him feel wanted, desired, deep down to the softest part of his soul. 

It’s hot, sweaty work and David’s thighs do give up on him after a few minutes. It’s all he can do to take what Patrick’s giving him, all hard steady thrusts that fill David up so good and make his legs shake. David is too hot everywhere and he’s close, his body starting to tense up everywhere, but it isn’t quite enough. 

“I can’t,” David says, “I can’t, I need you—” He breaks off and gestures instead, some flurry of hands that Patrick thankfully manages to interpret. Patrick lifts David’s hips enough to pull out and then he’s flipping them over, settling between David’s legs and pushing one up over his shoulder so he can move into David again, hard and perfect. 

It’s too good and David’s legs are going to be useless tomorrow, but none of that matters when Patrick is fucking him into the mattress exactly like he needs. David is going to come like this, with the weight of Patrick’s body on him and his cock rubbing against Patrick’s stomach and Patrick’s rough breathing in his ear. 

“So gorgeous,” Patrick says, “I love you, I love—”. 

David doesn’t get to hear what else Patrick loves because he comes, loud and messy and overwhelming, holding Patrick close as his hips stutter and he cries out too, tucking his face into David’s neck and collapsing half on top of David heavily. 

When David’s breathing slows, he gingerly eases his leg down to tangle with Patrick’s. 

“Hey,” David says, stroking the back of Patrick’s neck with his thumb. “I love you too.”

“I know,” Patrick says, sounding like he’s run a marathon and then walked home just for fun. But he shifts enough to slide off David and turn over onto his side. He kisses a freckle on David’s shoulder and makes a pleased, satisfied noise, melting into David’s side. 

“So given that we both need showers and also need to change the sheets now,” David says, “I think we should go have an energizing and cooling snack first.”

Patrick sits up with a sigh for the effort and grabs the glass of water on his nightstand, drinking and then offering it to David. 

“There’s ice cream in the freezer.” Patrick says, as David drinks. “I think it’s chocolate.”

“How can you not know?” David asks, handing the glass back for Patrick to set down. “It’s the Kawartha Dairy Death by Chocolate.” 

“Right,” Patrick says. “That should do it. You want to go clean up and I'll go get it?” 

He casts his eyes over David’s still somewhat-on robe, “We’re not going to have a massive dry cleaning bill, right? You should probably go make sure nothing’s…” 

“You can never tell anyone,” David says, very seriously. “But this is in fact washable silk. So we’re fine.” 

“Thank goodness,” Patrick says, smiling and leaning in for a kiss, barely more than a gentle brush of lips. “I’ll get the ice cream.”

**IV - Cookies and Cream**

Make no mistake, Patrick knows that the store is David’s baby. Patrick also knows better than to expect the almost parental instinct David has for the store to give him any additional empathy for the many couples that somehow think David is the correct person to hire to plan their baby showers. Despite the soft cheese station and drug references, Jocelyn’s baby sprinkle seems to have inspired a certain demand for David’s party planning services. 

David would say no, he’s plenty busy with the store and his new husband and his new house, but Patrick did a little research and ran the numbers and it turns out a handful of baby showers can easily pay for the screened in porch David wants for the house. 

“Okay”, David says when Patrick shows him the spreadsheet. "But this is going to be a paint by numbers situation. No baby is highbrow enough for that much of a personalized experience.”

So in spare quiet moments at the store, David compiles what Patrick has learned is called a lookbook. It has different themes and slightly more baby-friendly colour schemes than David’s usual palette and menus and other elements you can apparently charge people an arm and a leg for. 

“So it’s like a catalogue?” Patrick asked, once, to his immediate regret. Apparently it is not like a catalogue. Patrick’s not 100% sure why, but he doesn’t really need to go down that particular road. 

~

“So did David ask you to look at his party planning catalogue?” Patrick asks Stevie when she’s over for their usual biweekly dinner. She brought ice cream, and they’re eating it on the back porch, watching the sun set. 

“It’s not a catalogue!” David says, “I’m not IKEA.”

“You loved that almond tart I bought you from the food hall.” Patrick says, grinning at the look David gives him. 

“Anyways,” David says, icily. “Stevie, it would actually be great if you could take a look at the lookbook? I need to know if it’s appealing enough for clients who might have...more pedestrian tastes.”

“Thanks for the read.” Stevie says. “When do I get to see the catalogue?”

David sighs and visibly composes himself, looking skywards and fidgeting with his hands. 

“Okay. I will go and get the lookbook. Because I want that damn porch.”

“Do you know why it’s not the same thing as a catalogue?” Stevie asks when David has disappeared into the house, taking another bite of her ice cream. 

Patrick shrugs. “No idea. But he has been working really hard on it and the couple who want the August shower thought it was great.” 

“Of course they did.” Stevie says. 

Patrick thinks it's nice they can share this moment, of being proud of David. 

“So it’s organized by theme,” David says, letting the door swing shut behind him and moving to sit on the steps with Stevie. “And everything’s gender neutral because I’m not doing any of that gender reveal bullshit.” 

Patrick collects his now empty ice cream bowl and Stevie’s too. David’s isn’t empty yet, but Patrick picks it up anyways, sticking it in the freezer so it doesn't get unbearably melty and David can finish it later. He washes the bowls and spoons and glasses at the sink, wanting to give Stevie and David a little time together. Stevie’s travelling every month for the Rosebudd now and he knows David misses having her around as much as he used to. She’s obviously happy though, having fun exploring new offbeat potential motel expansion towns with Ruth and insisting it’s, “Actually none of your business, thanks so much,” when David asked her about her not-girlfriend at dinner.

When Patrick heads back out to the porch, David and Stevie are deep in an argument over whether a Pride and Prejudice theme is too niche for anybody to actually select. 

“What do you think?” David says, turning to Patrick as he settles in next to David on the steps.

“I think there’s plenty of options in the catalogue and one maybe too niche one is fine.” Patrick says, treasuring the little huff David makes. “Also I put the rest of your ice cream in the freezer for you.” He adds, as a peace offering. 

“Thanks,” David says, softly, and he smiles when Patrick catches his hand and kisses it. 

“You two are so gross now that you’re married.” Stevie says, like she’s watching an Animal Planet nature documentary about the hard facts of life. “Alexis was right, you’ve gotten worse.”

“Or we were always like this and you’ve just blocked it out of your cold, bitter mind.” David says, cheerfully.

“Ugh,” Stevie says, but she lets David rest an arm around her shoulders and tells them about the truly awful towels she had the misfortune to experience on her latest scouting trip. 

**V - Salted Caramel**

“David!” Alexis shrieks, when she spots him outside their agreed upon meeting place at the ice cream shop. She flings herself into his arms before he can react at all. She’s pulling away almost as soon as he returns the hug. 

“David, ew, you’re all sweaty.” She abandons him for this crime, ignoring his protest. 

“We walked here and it’s August!” 

She moves to hug Patrick, albeit more gently. 

“Patrick’s not sweaty,” she says, moving back to a more conversational distance. 

“Patrick’s wearing jorts,” David says. “I’ll risk a little sweat to avoid that.” 

“Hi Alexis,” Patrick says politely, “it’s good to see you.” 

“I know,” Alexis says, and David had to admit she looks in her element here, her floaty wrap dress and sandals for once appropriate for the occasion and her surroundings. 

Patrick had asked him how he would feel about going back months ago, when Patrick had first raised the idea of a little trip for their first anniversary. David had teased him about paper being traditional and Patrick had said they could always print out their plane tickets, if David suddenly had a desire for the traditional. 

They’d talked about it more seriously later, when David decided that yes a trip would make sense and the question of where to go was actually a question. 

“I wasn’t kidding about New York,” Patrick had said. “I know you miss Alexis.” 

David can’t believe it sometimes, that Patrick’s still as sweet as the day he married him. 

“And I do need something to visualize when you start telling me about your past life exploits,” Patrick continues, reining in the sincerity with some teasing, like he knows David’s going to get too emotional if he doesn’t. “And it’s only like a two hour flight.” 

“Someone’s done their research,” David said. “Let me think about it?” 

So David had, weighing up seeing Alexis in person and getting to take Patrick to his seven favourite pizza places and the idea of being in New York with someone he loves for the first time ever against his past wounds. 

It’s not even close. 

“This place has the best gelato,” Alexis says, leading them inside. “Also Harry Styles bought mine for me here last week.” 

They eat the gelato in the park across the street and Alexis fills them in on what she has planned for their evening. Which turns out to be Patrick’s first time at a drag bar, during which he gets flagrantly hit on no less than twice. 

“Now I know why you wanted to come to New York so bad.” David teases him, delighted. Patrick’s already pink from the drinks and the heat of the packed, sweaty bar, but the way he ducks his head before clearly collecting himself and pulling David in for a kiss is clear enough. 

It’s late enough to be early when they leave, hugging Alexis goodbye and catching the subway for a short ride back to their Airbnb. 

Patrick rests his head on David’s shoulder until their stop and David knows he’s never been this happy here, never thought he would be. 

“That was fun.” Patrick says, when they’re inside and he’s returning from the shower David insisted they both take. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I told you,” David says, grunting a little when Patrick slides into his lap on the bed, “We’re meeting Alexis for brunch and then I want to go look at some galleries and then you’re taking me to the museum and to see the baseball theatre but not a game.” 

“Mmmm,” Patrick says, dropping his face to David’s neck, pressing a lazy kiss to David’s shoulder. 

“Are you even listening?” David asks. He feels almost giggly all of a sudden and it has nothing to do with the way Patrick’s eyelashes are tickling his neck. 

“What?” Patrick says, pulling back to look at David from a nearly respectable distance, wide-eyed like he thinks he’s actually missed something important. 

“Nothing,” David says, reaching to move a stray, still damp curl off Patrick’s forehead. It won’t matter, his hair will still be a disaster tomorrow after sleeping on it wet since he never remembers to use the leave-in conditioner David got him. 

Patrick smiles and David feels him relax in his arms, down to the heavy weight of his thighs where they’re bracketing David’s own. 

“Hey,” he says to the line of David’s jaw. ”Happy anniversary.”

“I love you,” David says, softly, like it’s just for Patrick to hear. 

Patrick kisses him then, just as soft and then not soft at all and David doesn’t think about anything else. 

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal thanks as always to tumblr user feelsfictional for betaing and the title! Any errors are my own and I fully blame them on said heatwave.


End file.
